


Ripped jeans hide a broken heart

by SilverInStars



Series: Bingo 2018 (MCU) [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - High School, Developing Relationship, Drabble, Fluff and Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Kid Fic, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tutor! Steve Rogers, Young! Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:23:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverInStars/pseuds/SilverInStars
Summary: Tony winces, eyes turning away, a slight flush to his cheeks. He hesitates, "That was just...curiosity, I guess." There are systematic rips to his jeans, his previously styled hair now falls to his cheeks, and he's picking the the fraying hems of his long sleeved plaid shirt. He's seventeen.Steve Rogers is asked to tutor seventeen year old Tony Stark





	Ripped jeans hide a broken heart

**Author's Note:**

> This fills "Kidfic" in my mcu Stony bingo card

Steve steps out the private door, with it's neon sign blinking a psychedelic red on the graffiti marked walls. There aren't many people loitering about the west end of the building, so it isn't hard to spot Tony crouched beside a 2008 lancer, his back leaning on its trunk, head rested on the tailgates as he brings up the cigarette butt in his hand to take a slow drag, and then promptly squeezes his body, chest to thighs, and coughs out harsh hacks between his knees. 

The idiot, Steve thinks, fisting his palms, with short steps that smack a staccato against the brick lain footpath, he finds his way beside the boy, rubbing, not gently, down his back. "Deep breaths for now, let it clear out of your system" he orders, reaching out to grab the cigarette and crunching it under the sole of his boot. 

Finally, once Tony’s done wheezing, the both of them lean back against the car, staring out blankly at the odd drunk pair that stumbled out of the nearby bars.

There is a passing chill to the air that befits the midnight hour. Steve rubs his palms together, then remembering, he wriggles a bit, trying not to let his butt fall to the grubby ground. Pulling out a compact square hot-pack from his back pocket, he presses it between Tony’s palms, "It's still too early for you to be enamored by the idea of lung disease, kid," he mutters dryly.

Tony winces, eyes turning away, a slight flush to his cheeks. He hesitates, "That was just...curiosity, I guess." There are systematic rips to his jeans, his previously styled hair now falls to his cheeks, and he's picking the the fraying hems of his long sleeved plaid shirt. He's seventeen. 

"I'm not gonna tell you what to do, or it's alternative tones. I'm not that much older than you, so what the heck do I know right?" Steve shrugs, the green suede jacket tightening a little uncomfortably given his position. Tony scuffles beside him, torn between disagreeing with a pout, and silently acceding to a fact that never seemed obvious when Steve was fit into the role of a tutor, someone with an inherent faculty.

There is a clang of metal from garbage bin in the opposite lane, and an impetuous calico hops to the ground, flicking her tail at them in a way that reminds Steve of Tony's shrugs and he has to stifle a snicker against his palm at its ridiculousness. Tony throws him a look brimming with curiosity, palm already stretched towards the cat, cooing under his breath hopefully. 

"But Tones," Steve interrupts the pause, "I think it's a little unfair if you're doing all this to punish Howard." 

Tony's head snaps to him in that second, expression raw and open, it's one Steve hasn't seen before, and ah, Steve thinks, maybe he hasn't realized it himself, yet. He looks at Steve now, posture loosened with surprise, the scent of burnt cigarette fumes dissipating in the air. The corner of his eyes have lost their edge, glassy and soft with hurt, his mouth opens- 

The private door opens with a desperate jerk, "Tony!" Howard is red faced and huffing, his tie flung haphazardly across his shoulder, an odd patch of grease staining his shirt. "I told you they need a moment-" Rhodey says, peeking out from behind him, taking in the awkward scene with a click of his tongue to the roof of his mouth. 

Tony’s expression shutters for the second time that night, in a graceful slide that comes with the flexibility of a teenager, he pushes himself away from the car and without a backward glance, fast walks across the road.

  



End file.
